Whoa, shit! Sorry for the hiatus, gentle reader. I guess I’ll just call it a “holiday break.” Unfortunately, stupidity never takes a break or a holiday, so back to business as usual.
Remember back in the day, when you were in elementary school, and you had to use some dumbass pass to go to the bathroom? It was usually some cutesie thing that you had to carry in with you, which now that I think about it, was pretty unsanitary and disgusting.
Next, you moved up to middle school, and you still had to have a pass, but it was for the purpose of roaming the halls and did not need to be brought into the germ filled crapper.
Then you made it to high school, and you didn’t have to use a pass to roam the halls or take a leak, but you still had that dickweed assistant principal wandering the halls threatening to expel you for not being in class.
Finally, you made it to college, where no one gave a fuck if you were in the halls or even attending class for that matter. So you slept in, ate some Easy Mac, played some Mario Cart, and got wasted on Busch Light at 1PM on a Tuesday. Man college was fucking awesome.
Now that you’re in the work force, you would think you wouldn’t need any sort of dumbass passes to do anything, because you’re a fucking adult, and anything of that nature is childish and stupid. Unless of course, you work at Telescreen Inc.
Even though none of the customers can see us, the employees still have to adhere to a “business casual” dress code. That’s fine, I understand that wearing sweatpants to work is generally frowned upon. What I don’t understand is when passes regarding the dress code have to be involved.
The upper echelon of the company, in their infinite stupidity, are always looking for ways to motivate the employees without providing them anything of value. It’s like saying, “If you finish this project, I’ll give you $50. Then you find out that the $50 is a gift card to fucking Ruby Tuesdays, so it’s basically worthless.
Anyway, the management team decided a great incentive for the employees would be jeans passes. They are literally passes that allow you to wear jeans to work. They’ve always been used while I’ve been at the company, but only recently, I was reminded of the striking similarities to elementary school bathroom passes.
The whole idea to me is stupid, because, well, it’s a pair of fucking jeans. Who gives a shit? Whether it’s a pair of nice-ass work slacks, Levi jeans, or sweatpants that say “Juicy,” on the ass end, it’s all the same. A pair of pants is a fucking pair of pants. If the management is going to entice me to work harder by letting me wear a different pair of pants, then I’m sure as shit not going to work any fucking harder. Not that I would anyway though.
So one day, I earned a jeans pass for doing who the fuck knows or cares, so I wore a pair of jeans to work. It really didn’t improve my day at all; I still had to talk to fucking morons, despite the fact that I was wearing jeans. One of my supervisors saw me walking by her desk on the way to my lunch break and said, “I hope you have a pass to go with those jeans.” I had no response for such a high level of stupidity, so I slipped away to my break.
Later in the day, the same pain-in-the-ass supervisor moseyed over and said, “Hey Winston, where’s your jeans pass?” I fumbled through my cubicle and desk, since I was of course on the phone, but couldn’t find the lame-ass slip of paper proving I could wear some jeans.
“Well you need to find it or else we may have to mark that against you,” explained the dumbass. It was then when I realized that I had been transported back to elementary school. “You know we’re talking about a pair of jeans,” I replied. “All the more reason to find your pass,” she said. I should’ve reasoned to go grab a juice box from the cafeteria, turn the TV’s to cartoons, and take a mid-day nap. After all, I was back in fucking kindergarten.
I ended up finding the pass and dropping it off on her desk. That was quite the sigh of relief; I sure didn’t want a note in my file saying:
“Violation #422: Employee was dressed in denim-style attire without the proper identification.”
It didn’t stop there. Anytime a department was “awarded” jeans passes, the bosses made sure to go around the cubicles and collect them, like it was so fucking important. Again, pants. Pants.
Once upon a time, every month we would get a calendar, with notations of “jeans days.” Holidays and other random times like NFL homegame Sundays would warrant jeans, probably since employees shouldn’t have to work on Sundays and holidays. Then Big Brother and his minions decided to take away “jeans days.” Why, you ask? As motivation to “earn” jeans passes. They were no longer meant to be given, but earned through hard work, or some bullshit like that.
Of course, some employees take that shit seriously. Me, I don’t give a shit whether it’s a holiday or not, I don’t want to use a damn pass for anything anymore. I’m no longer in elementary school, but most days, I sure wish I still was.
This one time, a customer threatened to de-pants me: